My Bare-Bottom Whipping: Four Quickies
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by Jay Lawrence
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Four Hot Sexy Short Stories of B&D! From an author whose work is "first rate, of a literary standard not often encountered within the erotica genre." Included are: My Bare-Bottom Whipping, Horny Halloween, Well Reddened, and Girls, Thigh Boots and Whips. A Hot Flashes Novelette.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: January 2008
18 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [50 KB]
Reading time: 28-40 min.
CONTENTS My Bare-Bottom Whipping Horny Halloween Well Reddened Girls, Thigh Boots and Whips * * * * My Bare-Bottom Whipping
My first spanking took place in the desert. We were on the road, Art and I, driving through Arizona in his old red sports car that had seen better days. Phoenix was an urban sprawl so we headed south to Tucson in search of the old west, Wyatt Earp and the OK corral. I come from the north and heat disagrees with me. I get bratty when the mercury rises. By Mesa, my temper was frayed.
"I hate this place."
My voice sounded shrill but I didn't care.
Art raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Give it a chance. We've seen the airport and the suburbs of Phoenix. It'll improve."
"I doubt it."
I crossed my legs and pouted. The a/c was turned up high, blasting cold air on my chest. My nipples were hard. Ahead, the poker-straight highway stretched into the shimmering distance. I was tired, hungry, thirsty and horny but didn't have the sense to voice any of those needs in an adult fashion.
"I wish we'd stayed in New Jersey."
"Any more of this, sweetheart, and I'll wish you'd stayed at home, that's for sure."
It was the cue I'd been waiting for and I pounced, eager for a fight, my libido so misplaced it wasn't funny.
"Thanks! I should have fucking stayed at home! Christ, I'm so hot..."
"So I see."
The edge of amusement in Art's maddeningly calm voice made me want to slap him. I hated his self control, longed to scratch my nails down his back and draw blood. Yep, I was horny...
"Why are you pulling over?"
The car drew into a rest area and Art got out without a word. I watched him head into the men's washroom without a backward glance. I uncrossed my legs, the moist flesh of my thighs sticking together beneath my shorts.
Christ, just fuck me. Fuck me hard and bite my neck and stick your finger in my ass. Give it to me hard, will you?
I didn't realize, back then, that my penchant for rough sex was a hint about some darker needs. I only knew I liked to be pinned down, legs thrust over my head and fucked so deep and strong I thought his cock'd come out of my mouth.
I thought about sex and my nipples hardened even more. I wasn't wearing a bra and they pushed against the thin cotton of my T-shirt.
Art returned with a paper cup full of water.
"I'm not thirsty."
"Yeah, right. Suit yourself. Dehydrate."
I watched him drink the cup in one big swallow. A few drops ran down his chin and swiftly evaporated.
"Fuck you," I muttered, my mouth dry, panties wet.
"I don't fuck silly girls."
I grabbed his ponytail and gave it a hard tug.
Wild with hormones, I pinched his thigh through his jeans, as hard as I could. It was strange foreplay but it worked for me.
"OK, do that again and I'm going to whip your ass, Joely."
I paused. It was that look-into-the-abyss-and-decide-whether-to-jump moment. I could have pulled back. I didn't.
Slyly, I reached out and slowly, deliberately, pinched him on the other thigh. Not a smart thing to do to an ex-Marine.
"Let's go for a little walk, shall we?"
Art threw open the car door. I watched his tall, spare frame cross the baking tarmac of the rest area and disappear behind a line of eucalyptus trees. Damn him. I didn't know whether to stay and sulk or go see what he was up to.
I'm going to whip your ass, Joely.
Art's words were like a searing brand on my overheated brain. Whip my ass. Something about the idea excited me. I felt angry and nervy but incredibly turned on. A lone trucker watched me as I climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the rest area. I knew the guy was admiring my ass, tight and round in skimpy white shorts. I thought about fucking him, screwing a nameless stranger just for the hell of it. Where was Art?
Intense heat beat down on my bare head. Suddenly, I felt like a little girl, left alone and looking for Daddy.
"What kept you?"
There was a picnic area behind the row of dusty trees, with a long table and bench seats. Art leaned against the table. I realized, with a shock that made my heart jump, that he had taken his belt off and held it, looped, in one hand.
"Bend over the table and pull down your shorts."
I stared at him. Was it a joke? His brown eyes gazed levelly back at me without a hint of humor. Shit.
"But we can't. Not here..."
My voice trailed away to nothing and butterflies danced in my stomach. I thought of my naked ass, shorts around my ankles, Art's heavy black belt cracking down on my unprotected cheeks. Slowly, dragging my feet, I approached the picnic table.
My fingers trembled as I undid the button and pulled down the zip. In a few moments the tight shorts were a crumpled heap about my ankles, swiftly followed by my panties.
"Bend right over. Your body flat against the table."
It felt like a dream. I thought about the truck driver and wondered if he was watching, imagined him jerking off as Art whipped my ass.
"You really need this."
I spread my thighs and felt a drop of pussy juice dribble down my sweat-sticky flesh. My cunt was slick. I wanted to be whipped and whipped hard. My boobs were crushed beneath me as I adopted the position. I felt the cool plane of the leather belt against my ass cheeks.
Give it to me.
Art placed his free hand on the small of my back and I shivered uncontrollably.